


Return of the Sun

by Bethann, Minniemoggie



Series: Legendary Friendship [35]
Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cross-cultural, Family, Family Feels, Father Figures, Father-Son Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses, Middle Earth, Parent-Child Relationship, Sailing To Valinor, Sea-longing, Sickfic, Yule, Yuletide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2018-12-06 05:17:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11593725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bethann/pseuds/Bethann, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minniemoggie/pseuds/Minniemoggie
Summary: It is Legolas and Gimli's last  Yule in Middle Earth and Legolas has become desperately ill with sea longing.  Gimli is determined to make the best celebration possible, even considering the poor circumstances.





	1. Gimli's POV

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place approximately nine months after Aragorn's death in March (FA)120 and just a few months before Gimli and Legolas take ship in the Spring. In Tolkien's canon Legolas vowed to remain in Middle Earth until after Aragorn's death. 
> 
> "But when King Elessar gave up his life Legolas followed at last the desire of his heart and sailed over Sea."  
> Appendix A "Return of the King"
> 
> It is also said that, (From Appendix B "The Lord of the Rings" by JRR Tolkien)
> 
> "Then Legolas built a grey ship in Ithilien, and sailed down Anduin and so over Sea; and with him, it is said, went Gimli the Dwarf. And when that ship passed an end was come in the Middle-earth of the Fellowship of the Ring."
> 
> And (From Appendix A)
> 
>  
> 
> "We have heard tell that Legolas took Gimli Glóin’s son with him because of their great friendship, greater than any that has been between Elf and Dwarf. If this is true, then it is strange indeed: that a Dwarf should be willing to leave Middle-earth for any love, or that the Eldar should receive him, or that the Lords of the West should permit it. But it is said that Gimli went also out of desire to see again the beauty of Galadriel; and it may be that she, being mighty among the Eldar, obtained this grace for him. More cannot be said of this matter."  
> . 
> 
> This is our version of how some of that happened. In our A/U the sea longing can be easily ignored for a time, but gets continually worse until it must be heeded or the sufferer will go mad and eventually die. At this point in the story, Legolas has been dealing with the sea longing for over 120 years.

 

    " _The Sea! Alas! I have not yet beheld it. But deep in the hearts of all my kindred lies the sea-longing, which it is perilous to stir. Alas! for the gulls. No peace shall I have again under beech or under elm._ "
    ― [Legolas](http://tolkiengateway.net/wiki/Legolas)

_The Lord of the Rings, Return of the King_

> _To the Sea, to the Sea! The white gulls are crying,_  
>  _The wind is blowing, and the white foam is flying._  
>  _West, west away, the round sun is falling._  
>  _Grey ship, grey ship, do you hear them calling._  
>  _The voices of my people that have gone before me?_  
>  _I will leave, I will leave the woods that bore me;_  
>  _For our days are ending and our years failing._  
>  _I will pass the wide waters lonely sailing._  
>  _Long are the waves on the Last Shore falling,_  
>  _Sweet are the voices in the Lost Isle calling,_  
>  _In Eressea, in Elvenhome that no man can discover,_  
>  _Where the leaves fall not: land of my people for ever!’_
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> I pull my cloak tighter around me as Ruby and I make our slow way over the snow-covered road to home. The light rain of this morning has changed over to heavy wet snow, and the brisk breeze to bitter wind, but fortunately we are not too far away from our destination, for we have only been visiting very close neighbors to deliver special Yule gifts.
> 
> Of course Ruby is not my original beloved pony, but one of his many descendants, and home is not my beautiful Glittering Caves, but my current residence in Ithilien en Edhil. Ruby the first died nearly eighty years ago, and I retired as lord of Aglarond ten years ago in order to live full time with my elfling. The neighbor I have been visiting is Prince Elboron, dear Faramir’s son and the Yule gifts something that Legolas discovered last Autumn when on one of his better days he got up the energy to begin sorting through his things to throw away, give away or take along with us on the journey we plan to go on in the summer, a long journey from which there is no turning back.
> 
> In a long shallow wooden box he had discovered an assortment of sketches and near the bottom were some that he had done not long after the war. Among them were charcoal portraits of the members of the fellowship, including a very good likeness of Boromir. I had never seen them before since evidently Legolas had not thought to show them to me. He is much less impressed with his own talent than others are, and tends to think of such things as scribbles done in a quiet moment rather than works of art. However when I exclaimed enthusiastically over the quality of the work, he asked me shyly if I thought Elboron would like to have the one of his uncle. I had agreed that it would make a wonderful Yule gift, and now here we are only a few days before Yule.
> 
> As it turned out, I ended up delivering the gift on my own, for my lad was not up to making even such a short journey. The direction of the wind has made things hard on him in the last weeks, for even I can smell the tang of the sea on the breeze, and that, to him, is now a very dangerous thing now, for he has declined markedly since Aragorn’s death last spring. Shortly afterwards is when we finally made a plan to take the straight road before the year was out, though in my darkest moments I worry that we might have waited too late. At first after the decision had been made, he had rallied, and even took some interest in helping to design and begin construction on a ship, but since the winds have shifted it has been all I can do to prevent him giving into the lull of the gulls and crashing waves entirely. I now longingly recall my first weeks in Ithilien when I worried that I would not be able to find ways to fill my time. What a wonderful problem that was, though I did not appreciate it at the time. Now nearly every moment is spent in caring for my elf for he seems incapable most days of remembering how to care for even his most basic and most personal needs without my assistance. What time that isn’t spent on physical care is used up by attempting to distract his mind from the sounds of the sea and keep him with me in the present, for I cannot allow him to succumb to the song else I may never get him back. I do not like to rely on anyone else to care for such things, for I wish to keep his dignity in tact with the folks under his rule as much as possible, but at times I must, for on occasion I need to attend to other needs, such as today.
> 
> Originally the two of us had planned to visit Emyn Arnen together, but when it became apparent that that was not going to be possible, Legolas had pleaded with me to take the gift to Elboron myself rather than sending it with a messenger.
> 
> “It is our last Yule in Middle Earth, after all, Elvellon, and it would be so impersonal to send it by courier rather than one of the Lords of Ithilien en Edhil delivering it in person.”
> 
> Since at this point I find it nearly impossible to deny the lad anything he wishes for, I had promised to put the gift into Elboron’s hands myself, though I did not at all like the idea of leaving him this morning, even for just the daylight hours of one day, but having promised, I did so anyway, leaving him under the eye of our healer Master Handir.
> 
> So it is not just the bitter wind that has me hastening poor Ruby, for I am anxious to return to my charge to see how he has fared in my absence. With a pat of thanks for carrying me and the packages that have been sent from Emyn Arnen, I leave my Ruby in the nice warm stables where he will be fed and groomed, and generally spoiled by one of our skilled grooms. Then I hurry back to the main hall.
> 
> I leave the parcels in the sitting room, along with other packages that have been sent from Minas Tirith, Aglarond and even so far away as Eryn Lasgalen and Erebor. I had half expected to find Legolas here sitting listlessly before the fire in the or pacing restlessly as he is won’t to do on occasion, but since he is not there, he must be in his chambers. I reach the bottom of the stairs at the same time as Master Handir.
> 
> “Where is Lord Legolas?” I ask, as we begin climbing the stairs together.
> 
> “Finally sleeping, thank the Valar,” Handir tells me. “He seemed agitated this morning, but I managed to coerce him to rest not half an hour ago.”
> 
> I am pleased to hear that, for the poor lad finds it difficult to sleep, and normally only does so these days while I am present and he can touch me or hear my voice. Perhaps because it is their native home in the West, the elves here seem to have little success staving off the sea longing, but I, being more grounded in Middle Earth perhaps, am able to help him endure the worst symptoms.
> 
> “Ah well done, Master Handir. I am happy to hear it. Still I believe I will sit with him for a while”
> 
> “Very well,” he replies. “ I will just get my things and leave you to it then.”
> 
> We enter the chambers together, to find the bed empty, the window wide open, and very suspicious footprints in the snow on the roof. My heart leaps into my throat, for the roof is steep and slippery, but when Handir inspects he finds no broken body lying on the ground below.
> 
> “The trees respond to his desire rather than what is best for him,” he explains, “They’ve assisted him.”
> 
> We don’t even have to discuss what assistance he’s been given by his treeish friends, for we both know where he has gone. I grab his cloak off of its hook, race downstairs and hurry toward the Morgulduin.
> 
> “I wasn’t gone ten minutes,” Handir pleads, trotting beside me, “I thought he was sleeping.”
> 
>   
>  Handir is a good capable healer, and I am not truly angry with him, but fear makes me harsher than I wish to be.
> 
> “He canna be left alone, ye daft elf, not even for a moment! Ye should know that by now!”
> 
> “I do know it,” Handir replies mournfully, “But it was literally a moment or two, I thought…”
> 
> “Never mind that now, lad, we both know where he is, so it is no trick to bring him back,, but we’d best hurry! In fact, I’ll catch up with him and ye take care of everything else.
> 
> Sadly we’ve had enough experience with the occasional incident where Legolas manages to give us the slip and find his way to the nearest body of water, that we have a practiced drill for his return. When I first moved here it was enough to require that he bring someone else along if he wished to go near the river, but within a few years I had to make the choice to forbid his going altogether. He did not like the restriction at the time, though he understood the sense of it, but now…well now rules and restrictions mean nothing to him. No amount of threatening or scolding makes a difference at this point either. If the opportunity presents itself, he will escape to the river from which so many of his folk here have begun their sea journey. It is as if some kind of instinct has taken over his self-control.
> 
> Fortunately Master Handir truly had only been away for a few minutes, so I manage to catch up with the lad before he gets to the water’s edge. I breathe a sigh of relief, for had I arrived five minutes from now, I would have very likely found him right in the middle of the river and the situation would have been far worse than it is now. It is bad enough as it is considering that the snow is falling heavily now and Legolas is dressed in an undershirt and leggings, no doubt having removed his outer tunic when Master Handir encouraged him to lie down.
> 
> “Legolas,” I call, out as soon as I am close enough that I think he can hear me. “Do not take one step further!”
> 
> But he does not turn his head or acknowledge me in any way until I get close enough to grasp the back of his shirt, and even then he just tugs against me as if he has snagged it on a tree branch and it trying to get loose.
> 
> But I hold firm, and pull him close enough that I can grasp his arm and then turn him to face me. Still he only attempts to turn back, so I give him a little shake and then speak in the stern voice that normally works to bring his mind back to the present.
> 
> “And just where do ye think ye are going, young elf?” I growl. He only tilts his head and looks at me as if I am someone he knew from long ago and he can’t quite place who I am, so I continue to scold hoping that the familiarity of my voice will work to bring him back to himself.
> 
> “I asked ye a question, youngling, and I expect a proper answer. Where exactly do ye think ye are going? Speak up, boy!”
> 
> Though his teeth are chattering with cold, he manages to answer, “I am only trying to get home.”
> 
> This poignant but honest answer makes me want to weep, but for his sake, I keep my voice steady.
> 
> “I understand, Lamb, but for now home is back in the other direction. Come let me take ye inside.”
> 
> I wrap the cloak that I brought with me around his shoulders, and it is then that I notice he is standing in several inches of wet snow wearing nothing but a pair of drenched socks, evidently not having even bothered to put his boots on before making his escape.
> 
> “Are you certain, Elvellon? I feel sure it is this way.”
> 
> I am relieved that he at least now knows who I am, for it is a sign that I am reaching him.
> 
> “I know ye feel so, Lambkin, but ye’ll have to trust me on that. Now let us not stand here debating any longer. Come along.”
> 
> “But…”
> 
> Rather than continuing this discussion out here in what is turning out to be nearly blizzard conditions, I merely lift him up in my arms, adjusting the cloak to protect his head. He makes a halfhearted attempt to struggle, but when I apply a light tap to one thigh, he seems to give in, and buries his face in my neck, and in this way, we make our way back to the hall.


	2. Legolas' pov

XXXX

Warmth, warmth and light. My disordered senses take some time to conclude that I am safely ensconced in my bed and that daylight is filtering in through the firmly closed shutters.

How I got here and how long I have been here I have no idea, the last thing I remember is master Handir urging me to seek my bed and take some rest. Yet that was late in the afternoon with Anor slipping beyond the horizon. Now from what I can tell from the way the sun shines through the shutters, it is well past midday. Have I slept for so long?

My mind seems to be permanently fogged, I cannot remember, cannot recall, it is so frustrating and frightening. I blink, trying to clear the haze that appears to be a perpetual state of mind for me now …. Why that is I cannot presently comprehend, obviously something is wrong. I attempt to concentrate, to bring my mind what is left of it to order but like a skittish foal it dances away out of reach. I feel like weeping but what good that would do I do not know other than offer some immediate relief. Instead, I do my best to work out how and why I find myself cocooned in such a manner that I cannot free myself. It is as if I have been swaddled like an infant I should be embarrassed but all I feel is relief, there is comfort in the thought that I am safely wrapped, safely held and there suddenly like Gil-Estel blazing into light is the part of the puzzle I had been missing.

Someone is holding me safe, strong arms shelter me, my head is resting against a sturdy chest, one of my hands is wrapped firmly in a grizzled beard. Holding on so hard, that it is a wonder I have not pulled the hair free from whoever’s face it belongs to.  
I concentrate as hard as I can, and finally the mists in my mind roll back sufficiently for me to remember who it is I am clinging to so desperately. Who else would it be but my dwarf, my anchor, my rock, my strength my salvation, Gimli ….

And, then the other memories rush back like the waves on a beach, and like the waves they threaten to overwhelm me, to suck me down into the depths from which there will be no escape. The sea longing, of course. What else would it be? Over the years, the effects of this condition have steadily worsened. In the beginning I had only to direct my thoughts elsewhere to drive the call away, then it became necessary to avoid large stretches of water when it struck and in the last fifty years or so the effects have become so severe that I have sometimes had to take shelter far from Ithilien en-Edhil in the caves of Aglarond. Now even that relief is denied me, for it matters not where I am, the call overcomes every obstacle bar one. On my own I cannot drive the sound from my ears. It drowns all else. The trees, my friends and family all fade away when I am struck down with an attack.

That is why Gimli gave up his lordship of the Glittering Caves and moved here to be with me. His is the one voice to whom I still respond. He is the only one capable of calling me back even in the worst of times. My elven kin, even my father, cannot do what Gimli does. Perhaps it is because he is immune to the call of the sea, or is as hardheaded as a rock and as stubborn as a mule. Whatever it is that my dwarf has it is the only thing that has made my remaining days on Arda feasible. Without him, I do not doubt I would have succumbed and broken my oath to Estel to remain in Middle Earth while he still lived.

His death was a sad blow. Oh, I knew he was aging and that he had begun to consider giving up his life and I thought I had prepared myself for the inevitable. I had not. I was devastated and I believe that it was then that the sea longing managed to slip beneath my guard and take mastery over my mind. No matter how hard I try now I can no longer free myself from its call. I have not admitted this to anyone other than Gimli but I have finally surrendered my-or I should more honestly call it our- fight for my doughty dwarf has battled beside me every inch of the way. But the time has come to admit I have lost the war and must depart.

My only solace is that Gimli has determined to come with me to whatever end we shall find when we take ship in the spring. I could never have asked it of him, but then I did not have to. He was insistent he would take the straight road; there was no way I was going to make such a journey without him beside me. “Ye daft elf , if I was to let ye go alone ye’d likely end up sailing the wrong way!” he growled at me when I first talked of journeying over the sea and he has not changed in that opinion even as the days have darkened and my own health has become more precarious.

This memory of the sea longing triggers others, including why I am presently lying in bed wrapped in blankets with a dwarven lord snoring softly beside me. I ease my hold on his beard, but remain within the shelter of his strong arms. Here at least I can find temporary relief. With Gimli at my side I can still turn back the tide or at least resist its call for a little longer.

I have suffered another attack. My mind goes back to yesterday morning when I insisted Gimli should take the Yule present to Elboron personally. I would have liked to accompany him, but the east wind always brings the smell of the sea and I thought it would be less dangerous to remain indoors and keep busy.

Having found suitable gifts for Elboron and his family I was keen to see if there might be anything within the trunks and boxes I was sorting through that might be suitable to give to Gimli. I would have preferred to have made something new myself but time is short and my hands shake so now that using a sharp knife or tools is out of the question. So, I had spent much of the day in my quarters, hunting through the trunks, finding all kinds of treasures that had lain forgotten for many, many years. In the depths of one box I came across a beautiful broach in gold set with rubies that might make a good cloak pin. While I cannot do the required alterations, I have elves here that are capable of doing it. I was feeling quite pleased and just congratulating myself on solving at least one problem when I spotted something else. Wrapped in a cloth was the model of a swan ship that Lord Cirdan had presented to me when he visited Eryn Galen when I was a very small elfling.

It is a beautiful thing, the detailing and workmanship superb. When I was an elfling, I used to dream of sailing on such a ship, of finding new lands, of going on adventures. I let my fingers trace the prow and the main mast. Smiling at the happy memories, it evoked, then I put it aside to show Gimli and allowed Master Handir to persuade me to take a nap before Gimli returned.

“You could maybe then be well enough to take the evening meal in the hall,” he had suggested, and since it is some days since I have shared meals with my folk, I agreed to lie down and get some rest.

The elves of Ithilien en Edhil deserve some small show of gratitude for their loyalty and love towards someone who has proved to be a less than stellar ruler. They have been so patient, so understanding. They, like Gimli, have done all they can to lessen my pain. The least I can do is appear in the hall for evening meal. I wonder what will happen to my people once I take ship. Galathil and Saelind are capable of running the colony. They have indicated that this is exactly what they will do once I have departed. However, I suspect that what will actually happen is that once mine and Gimli’s ship slips anchor they will begin to prepare to return to Eryn Lasgalen leaving Ithilien en Edhil to the stewardship of Elboron’s second son. It makes perfect sense, for all of the elves who remain on Arda are moving northwards to my Adar’s realm. The Elrondionnath, Glorfindel and Lord Celeborn have already made their home in Eryn Lasgalen. It is natural that those who came south with me will wish to return home. It seems sad that all our efforts will be wasted, but I suppose not really, for the land will benefit either way and Elboron’s children are good people. They have been taught well by Faramir whose love for Ithilien cannot be doubted.

Anyway I must have slept for some time for I can recall the dreams that filled my head, the toy ship Cirdan had made for me, was now full sized, and waiting for me on the river so I could begin my journey to Elvenhome. The imagery was such that I could almost see the sails billowing out in the breeze. The ship was pulling on its anchor straining to be away on the tide. It called to me, louder and louder. It was time for me to be away, to come home. All was in readiness, I could not resist, I did not want to resist. I must have climbed out of the window and gone to the river to answer the seas call …

It was there that Gimli found me, and somehow brought me back to my senses. I remember little of coming back here. I do not recall what Gimli said although I hung onto the sound of his voice. That was the only thing that prevented me from struggling from his arms and plunging into the river. Poor Gimli what a trial I have been to him …

I close my eyes as I am once more assailed by the call of the sea …

I must give a gasp or something for immediately arms are holding me safe.

“Easy now Lamb. Gimli is here, ye are safe.”

I shudder and tremble tucking my head into his shoulder.

He rubs my back, muttering soft words of reassurance.

“Let it go Lamb. Tis only a dream. It canna harm ye here. Concentrate on my voice, all is well. That’s it, easy now.”

As I begin to relax, he shifts himself off he bed standing and stretching before turning back to me.

“Now, let’s get a hot drink inside ye.” He catches my chin in his hand, “Remember naught can harm ye while I am here.”

I manage a shaky smile, and allow Gimli to fuss over me. I do not want to drink or eat but know it is vital that I do so and I know it will please Gimli if I try, so I nod and accept the mug of steaming tea which has been kept hot by the fire. I wrap my hands about it and relish in the warmth.

“I am so sorry,” I mumble into the depths of the cup.

Again, the hand takes my chin forcing me to look up into a very concerned face.

“Ye have no need to apologize. The sea longing is not something ye sought and not something ye can control. It just is, and we have to manage it as best we can. Was it the east wind do ye think?”

I shake my head.

“No not this time at least. It may have played a part but my dreams were of a ship I found.”

Gimli follows my gaze and sees the swan ship model that I had placed on a shelf.

“It was given to me by Lord Cirdan. I had all but forgotten about it, and then yesterday I found it while rummaging in one of the trunks. I think that might have triggered the attack. Perhaps it would be best to burn it.”

Gimli picks up the model examining it with the eyes of an expert carver.

“It is a piece of work Lamb. Beautiful, and a fine gift. It would be a pity to destroy it. Perhaps if we just wrap it back up and put it away all will be well. It will not do to burn everything that reminds ye of the sea else we will never get our own ship built.”

I laugh, feeling immeasurably better with Gimli beside me.

“True enough.” I make an effort to turn my thoughts to something more positive. “How were Elboron and his family?”

“Well enough and looking forward to Yule. They extended an invitation to us to join them in their revels if we wished to, but I said that this year we were staying in the colony so that we could celebrate with our own folk one last time.”

And probably to ensure that should I be taken with another attack, there would only be those here who know and would sympathize with me. I think this, but do not say it out loud. Anyway I too would prefer to stay in Ithilien en-Edhil and try and make this last yule as enjoyable as we can.


	3. Chapter 3

 

I turn my back to my lad who is sitting up in bed still cocooned in blankets and furs, though his hands have been freed enough to hold a half full cup of warmed tea. I dare not make it too hot or too full since his hands shake so badly nowadays that he’d be in danger of scalding himself if I did so. The reason I have turned away is so that I can wrap, without him seeing it, the little swan ship in several layers of fabric in order to store it where he will not accidentally come across it again. Once I have finished this task, I turn to Legolas and point a warning finger at him.

“Do not move from this spot until I return.”

I wait until he nods in agreement and I am certain that his eyes are clear, indicating that he truly understands me, before I race across the hall to my own chambers and bury the thing inside a closet at the bottom of a locked trunk. I am gone for less than five minutes and all the time I listen for sounds of movement from his chambers to alert me if he takes a sudden notion to escape again. It is not that I don’t trust his word, but that I know he has little control of his actions these days and the longing can strike with very little trigger and make his mind hazy. In fact it is easier now to count the days when there are no spells at all.

I do not linger in my own chamber, though it is a relief to be out of Legolas’ rooms for a moment just for the cooler air. We keep it uncomfortably warm in there at all times, for the poor child is nearly impossible to keep warm, but last night was worse than usual. The fire was built up to an almost unbearable degree considering he was soaked to the bone with icy water by the time I got him home last night. Master Handir had seen to the fire, drawn a hot bath and heated broth and blankets before we even arrived, and after I coaxed as much hot liquid down him as I could and wrapped him in the offered blankets, I held him close as he struggled through the night. Eventually he drifted off into a fitful sleep with one hand tangled in my beard and his head directly against my chest, so that he could listen to the resonate tones of my humming. For whatever reason my voice and my touch are a great comfort to him, and help him turn away from the sounds of the sea better than anything else. I do not understand why that is, but it is why I never stray too far away from him any more. In fact, I should not have done so yesterday even though he had insisted on it and I swear to myself not to do so again until we arrive in the West.

I return to the overheated room to find my elfling just where I left him, with both hands wrapped around the mug of warmed tea, only I can see that already his eyes are beginning to glaze over as they do when he is having difficulty blocking the sea sounds. I’ll need to come up with a distraction to try to keep his mind occupied, but first I need to get his attention. I sit beside him on the bed and take the cup away that is tilting dangerously to the side before I give a little tug to a lock of his hair. This works to cause him to blink and turn his gaze on me, and I am gratified to see him frown slightly in annoyance. Anything is better than that blank stare. I carefully and deliberately place the cup back in his hands.

“Finish the tea, lamb, and then we’ll see about getting you up and having some food sent up for ye.” He opens his mouth as if to argue, but I raise a hand to stop him before he even begins. “No, there is no need to bother telling me ye aren’t hungry. I know that well enough, but ye canna afford to lose any more weight. Ye’re all eyes and hair as it is now, so skipping meals is not an option. Don’t worry, we’ll ask for something easy.”

Something easy, means food that is not too heavy or too heavily spiced, for rich foods tend to upset his stomach and it will help nothing if he is unable to keep it down. But evidently that was not his concern this time.

“I was not proposing to skip any meals,” he explains, “I know that is a pointless discussion, but Master Handir suggested that I might come down for the evening meal earlier, and I wondered what you thought of the idea. I’d like to if you would give me permission to try it, for it has been many days since I’ve done so it seems to me. May I please?”

“Of course ye may if ye like,” I immediately agree, though I do not point out that it has been nearly two weeks rather than a few days since he has done so. He finds it frustrating that he so easily loses track of time, and there is no need to upset him unnecessarily. Still I will have to explain one thing at least. “But ye will not be going down for the evening meal, since it is afternoon now. Ye were so chilled and so disoriented last night that Master Handir laced your broth with a very mild sedative to help ye relax and sleep through the night.”

Heavy pain relieving and sleep inducing medications are no longer safe, for my elfling is as thin as a willow wand and his mind is no longer clear all the time. To medicate him too heavily could put him in a dream state from which he might not be able to return. Still an occasional dose of well-watered poppy or chamomile sometimes works to settle him down when he is especially agitated as he was last night after his vivid dreams of the swan ship. He does not look at all happy to hear this, however.

“ So much time passed? I do not recall drinking any broth.”

He furrows his brow in concern and confusion, and then looks down at himself taking in the oversized sleep shirt he is wearing. There is a shade of panic in his voice, for he once had nearly perfect recall.

“I don’t remember changing clothes either!”

I place a hand on either side of his face and once again force him to look into my eyes as I attempt to soothe his worries.

“Ah well, it is nothing to concern yourself over, lamb. Ye know a bad episode can cause a little memory loss.” It is a severe bit of understatement, but there is no need to point out exactly how many hours, days and weeks he has lost to the sea longing. It does no good to dwell on such things, so is better to change the topic. I lean in and kiss the top of his head, and then take away the now empty cup from his hands. “Let us instead focus on getting ye ready to go down for break of fast shall we? Ye mustn’t appear before your folk looking like a street urchin. I’ll help ye dress and then I can brush and braid your hair. Do ye need to use the facilities? No? Well ye should try at least…”

And in that way I am able to turn his attention to immediate practical concerns. We have been at this long enough, that there is no longer any reason for embarrassment. It is pointless to pretend things are different from what they are, so rather than comment he just submits to my ministrations and allows me to help when he needs assistance. It is not something that we talk about, but we both know the routine. I always let him do as much as he can without help, but then step in before he can get too frustrated. On his best days he can do all but the most complicated things, like tying the intricate braids he used to wear. On his worst days, I have to help with everything, leading or even carrying him to the bathing chambers and helping with the most basic things like cleaning his teeth or reminding him to relieve himself. Fortunately I am pretty sure those are the days when his mind is so fogged he isn’t likely to recall it later.

Today is somewhere in between those two extremes. As expected after a bad episode his hands are shaky and clumsy, so I have to help with anything involving fine motor skills. He manages to use the facilities on his own and come out dressed, but comes to me for help tying the ties of his leggings and fastening his shirt and outer tunic. He then hands over his hairbrush and sinks onto a pillow on the floor, allowing me to brush and braid his hair. I haven’t bothered to braid it in some time since he hasn’t gone to the public dining area recently, so it feels like a special occasion to see it neatly tied back.

I firmly push from my mind the thought that not so long ago, this person who now cannot braid his own hair was able to shoot a fell beast from the sky with perfect accuracy, and gracefully balance on the smallest branch of the highest tree. Becoming melancholy does no one any good at all, so I sometimes have to work just as hard to keep my own mind in the present as I do his. By next Yule things will be better, I tell myself, and then try my level best to believe it. It has to be the case, else all our hard work will be for naught, and that just is not acceptable.

So for now, I tie off his back braid and weave a little jeweled clip in it, and then offer him a hand up so we can make our way down to the dining room. Since I know he will be prone to dizzy spells after last night, I take his arm as we descend the stairs.

For the first time I notice that garlands of holly decorate the banister, showing that the household has been busy preparing for Midwinter’s day even without our input. The great fireplace in the dining hall has been decked out as well with boughs of fir, holly, pine cones and swags of silver ribbon all meant to remind us of the new life ahead of us when days begin to lengthen. Green, and silver are the colors of Yule in an elven realm, but I also notice that someone has added the glass baubles that Dorbryn gifted me with some years ago to remind me of home. Dwarven homes are decorated mainly with gold and deep red, to represent the return of the all-conquering sun, so it is nice to see that someone has remembered. Legolas notices as well.

“Everything looks so festive mixed together like that,” he tells me, as we make our way to our usual table nearest to the roaring fire.

The sound of his voice causes heads to turn and folks to exchange glances, for many of the elves here have not seen much of their young Lord in quite some time. There are many warm greetings, but I notice that Captain Saelind, who was here before us, signals behind the lad’s back that folks should go on about their business and not stare or overwhelm him. Captain Galathil, who has become a close friend and ally now, also comes to sit with us.

“Have we missed all the Yule preparations Galathil?” Legolas asks him, causing Galathil to glance at me hopefully. We all tend to grab onto any sign of interest the lad has in anything as a hopeful omen.

“Not at all, my lord. The Yule log has not yet been brought in, and there are mountains of fir, holly and bittersweet waiting to be strung or twisted into garlands.”

“How about we have someone light the fireplace in the sitting room, and we can spend the morning working on that?” I suggest. “Would that suit ye lamb?”

“It would,” he smiles, again looking around to admire the festive decorations.

That is how I find myself a short while later attempting to string red and orange berries onto a long thread tied to the end of a needle. It is a bit tedious if I am honest, but I don’t mind doing so if it makes my lad happy. He is only in charge of collecting the berries and small fir cones, for we both know he will not be able to manage the needle. He doesn’t seem to mind much and I try to shake the memory of our very first Yule after the hall was built, when I had to scold my lad many times for scrambling up into the rafters like a tree squirrel just to hang garlands perfectly. If I recall correctly, he spent most of the third day of Yule standing up after the last discussion we finally had to have over his antics. What I wouldn’t give to have that problem to deal with now, but instead I have to settle for watching him struggle to pull red and orange berries free from their branches.

For a few minutes he seems enthusiastic about the task, but very soon he ends up sitting back to watch me work, and before long I realize our conversation has become very one sided with me doing all the talking. He is beginning to get that vacant expression on his face again. I put my needle aside and come across to where he is sitting and stroke his cheek.

“Legolas, look at me laddie.”

He blinks and shakes his head as if to clear it, and then finally looks up at me.

“What are ye thinking about youngling?”

He shrugs guiltily, which I see as a good sign, for it means he is still aware that he is meant to fight his natural thoughts.

“I’m sorry, Gimli.”

“No need for that lamb,” I tell him as I pat his hand. “I know it is difficult, but ye mustn’t let your mind wander. Ye must focus on the task at hand.”

He looks around the room and seems suddenly overwhelmed by the piles of greenery that must be formed into Yule decorations. Our time for making garlands is over it seems.

“Let us leave this for now and do something else,” I suggest. “here come sit with me and I’ll tell ye the story of the Midwinter’s morning when my cousin Kili stole all of his brother’s gifts to trade for an especially fine cask of ale.”

Legolas smiles at this, though I am sure it is just to please me, and then comes to sit with me before the fire with one ear against my chest as I stroke his hair and tell the story…


	4. Legolas' pov

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes we know Kili and Fili died at the Battle of the Five Armies, but we have decided to keep them alive because we love them. In our A/U they were assumed dead after the battle, but were actually merely grievously injured and then healed by an elven healer. When they realized that Dain Ironfoot had been installed as King in their absence, they decided to move on to the Grey Mountains and settle there. They don't appear in this story, except in a mention, but I wanted to explain their existence in this A/U. 
> 
> However there are a couple of tales in existence about them.

 

I try very hard to concentrate on Gimli’s voice, for he is a very amusing storyteller and I like to hear about his cousin’s earlier life. I wonder how Kili and Fili are now; it is some years since we saw them. I ponder on whether we will have time to visit them in the spring before we take ship. This thought leads to another, rather more depressing one, will I be well enough to even make the journey north to say my farewells in person. My shoulders sag and Gimli pauses.

“Are ye alright Lamb?”

I try a smile, and assure him that I am well enough, “go on with your tale Gimli, so what happened when Fili found all his gifts were missing?”

Reassured Gimli continues with the story and I laugh at the description of an incandescent Fili chasing his brother. I turn my head slightly to watch the flames of the fire. They dance and flicker, and I remember how I used to watch the clouds with Ada and Brethilas, we would try and find the shapes of birds and animals the more fantastic the better although Adar always denied he recognized them when I claimed I saw a dragon.

  
Now I amuse myself by spotting shapes in the fire. Horses flying, birds, even an Oliphant but as ever my fickle mind turns back to the thing that dominates almost all of my waking and dreaming moments. The red and yellow flames turn to silver and blue, I see the waves crashing and swirling and a small swan ship struggling to makes its way through the water.

Once again, I am all but overwhelmed, and of its own volition my hand steels about Gimli’s leg. Here is my anchor and I must cleave to it if I am to survive. It surely cannot be many more days that this particular attack can continue I have but to make the effort to set my mind to other things and not let it wander as it keeps doing.

I make myself look about the hall at the preparations that are being made for the Yule festivities. Then I look down at the strings of berries that we had begun to make earlier. Looking at them just makes me more morose. I could not even thread the berries this year, my hands shake too much and I know Gimli worries that I will hurt myself. It is a sad come down for someone who was once known as the best archer on Arda. Now there are days when I can hardly feed myself or take care of my personal needs. However, I will achieve nothing by feeling sorry for myself. I must strain every sinew so that this final Yule does not pass us by without some sort of celebration. It would be so unfair to our folk and most of all to my stalwart dwarf who has sacrificed so much for me already. I will somehow find the strength to make our last Yule a good one.

To begin with, I have to find a way to give my orders to Lathron so he can work on Gimli’s cloak pin and I cannot do that with Gimli constantly at my side.

Gimli is coming to the end of his story I look up at him and laugh at what I assume is the appropriate moment making him smile and clap his hands happy to think he has managed to keep me amused.

“Gimli I believe I will go and rest for a little while," I say. He immediately begins to rise, but I stop him. “There is no need for you to accompany me. I will get Saelind to sit with me to ensure I do not wander off. There must be many things you need to be doing? I give you my word that I will remain within my quarters until you come for me.”

I can see that Gimli is torn, so I add, “Saelind was telling me he has received a book of tales from home. I would like to listen to some of them if he is willing to read them to me.”

He gives me a reluctant nod, “Well if ye can get him to agree then that would be a fine thing and keep ye out of mischief for a short while at least.”

When we approach him Captain Saelind is agreeable to elfling sit as I call it. That is unfair, of course, for Saelind, Galathil and most of all Gimli have done their very best to ensure that my life is made as easy as possible and they have done all they can to allow me to keep what independence I am capable of given the circumstances I live in.

My hours with Saelind are pleasant enough and of course, he is more than happy to call Lathron to us to discuss changing the broach into a cloak pin. In fact, the time goes swiftly, and my mind is not for once wholly wrapped up in the call of the sea.

Saelind and I actually do talk about the sea longing for he is both intrigued and horrified by its effects. By some strange twist of fate, no one here in Ithilien en Edhil has been caught up in the horrors of the call of the sea. It was something that has long concerned me, that those who chose to come south with me to form the colony may suffer as I have done. It has not happened and for that, I am grateful. Bad enough that I struggle with it; I do not need anyone else to have to deal with such a strange condition.

  
Saelind confesses that his own Naneth begged him not to come south, so afraid was she of his succumbing but he also tells me how much he admires how I have dealt with the condition. “You have ever been so strong, so determined, to stay for as long as you could.”

This praise makes me blush, for I do not deserve it, and so I tell him. “It is Lord Gimli to whom your admiration should be turned; his is the strength that has kept me here.”

My captain nods agreement at this, “I have seen for myself more times than I could wish how Lord Gimli has kept you anchored here on Arda Lord Legolas. However, I beg of you do not consider yourself weak because you have finally chosen to answer the call. No elf has held out for so long nor battled so hard. No elf has managed to live such a full and rewarding life even while caught up in the toils of this hated sickness than you have done. Everyone here in Ithilien en-Edhil is very proud to have been with you and to have been able to witness the work you have done to bring back this land to its full glory. Our lives have been enriched by your presence and that of Lord Gimli too. I will always be grateful for the fact that I was given the opportunity to travel here with you and come to meet so many fascinating and unique individuals my admiration for those of mortal kind has increased year by year and I will never regret my choice no matter what the future holds. I would not have missed this adventure for Smaug’s entire golden horde and I know I speak for all here that they feel the same and that we wish you and Lord Gimli well in your next great adventure which will take you both across the seas.”

This is quite a long speech for Saelind to give and it leaves me even more red faced than before and yet it also serves to bolster my determination to make this last Yule enjoyable for all my people and especially for Gimli and it is to this that Saelind and I turn our attention next.  
The book lies forgotten as we discuss when to bring in the Yule log and what food still needs to be prepared.

By the time Gimli comes to see how we are getting on I am feeling much better, and I am hopeful that while I may not be able to fully participate in the Yule revels I will be up to enjoying the days of celebrations so that our final year on Arda begins with pleasure rather than angst. 


	5. Gimli's POV

Of course Saelind is agreeable to sitting with Legolas for a while to give me some free time; the good captain would likely cut off his right arm if it would do the lad any good. I am not sure why Legolas suddenly needs to be away from me, but I do not question it. If that is what he wishes, then he shall have it. In fact as it is now, he can have anything that is within my ability to fulfill. If he wanted a warg hide coat and dragon eggs, I’d find the best available in Middle Earth and wrap them in festive wrapping for him to open on Yule morning. If spending the afternoon away from me and in Saelind’s company is his desire, then I am more than happy to grant his request. 

Most likely he is only trying to be kind knowing that I rarely get an opportunity for any kind of privacy these days, and to be honest it is nice to have a few hours on my own. The Yule log will be brought in tomorrow, so that means there are only twelve days left until Yule morning and I still do not have a gift for my elfling yet. If we are being entirely truthful, it is unlikely he will care one way or the other for he knows all my hours are spent with him so that I have no time for such things, but never in all our years together have I failed to give him a gift on Midwinter’s morning and I have no intention of breaking that tradition now. The problem is, I have no idea what it will be.

I recall the first Yule here after I retired as Lord of the Glittering Caves and the axe I finally conceded to make for him. For years he had entreated me to teach him to fight with an axe, but I had deemed it unnecessary. My own war axe outweighed him by two stone at his top weight, and so I knew it would be cumbersome and unwieldy and frankly unsafe for him to use it, but then when he explained his reasons for wanting to do so I changed my mind. Dwarven sons are always taught to wield an axe, so as the adopted son of the first Lord of Aglarond he felt it was his right to be treated the same. It was no trick to design and forge an axe that fit his taller and slighter frame. I do not know why I had never thought of it before, other than the fact that he is in fact not a dwarf. It was a terrible oversight on my part not to realize why it was so important to him, but it was set right at last that year. We spent many enjoyable hours in training, and then after he became proficient, we often enjoyed sparring together. Now, of course, his axe has been packed away, not to be opened again this side of the sea. Weapons practice is out of the question for him now, and I doubt he could even lift it at this point, which is a depressing thought. 

To prevent myself becoming overly morose, I once again try to project my thoughts forward to next year. If we are to sail in the summer, then we should arrive on Tol Eressëa in sixty to eighty days, which means he will still have a quarter of a year to recover before Yule. I have no idea what to expect as far as recovery time once he is no longer haunted by the sea, but I dare to hope that he will have improved greatly by then. Perhaps by then we will be able to unpack the axe to use it to spar again. Or perhaps he can even use the other gift I made him that same year. I haven’t thought of it in years, but I still have a gift hidden that I never gave him that first year. Soon I am lost in memories again.

Back then, Legolas still had more good days than bad and that winter the snows were heavy and soft, the sort that begs to be delighted in, or at least it was so for Legolas. In spite of his being Lord here, he managed, with my encouragement, to partake in some of the joys that most lads of all races participate in without a thought. I even made a sturdy hickory sled just for that purpose, but of course after a few trips down the hill, that was too tame for my elfling, who decided it would be much more fun to stand up, holding the attached ropes to attempt to guide the thing. Of course the sled was not designed for that sort of use, so Legolas ended up tumbling head over heels, his fall finally broken by a fence post, leaving him with a bloody lip and a black eye. The sled took a beating as well, but before I would repair it, I made the lad swear to use it only in the way it was meant to be used, which he reluctantly did. 

Yet all the while I was repairing it, I kept thinking that I could design a sled that would work the way Legolas wished, and then I promptly decided I would make one to give him as a Yule gift.

It was made of ash, which is lighter and more flexible than the hickory sled, and rather than being made of two runners and a seat, this was only one wide, straight runner and rather than ropes to guide it, it was designed to be steered simply by leaning from one side to the other. Leather straps were added so that the rider could stand sideways on the sled and keep it strapped to his feet for more control. It was a simple idea, but to my delight even I could stay standing on it when I took it for a trial run on a gentle hill. I was sure Legolas could perform all sorts of athletic feats on it!

Sadly even back then the child could not deal well with the cold, and that particular winter turned out to be bitterly so. By the time Yule arrived, I had decided not to gift it to him so we wouldn’t have to argue over when he would be allowed to use it. I knew it would be too much of a temptation for him to resist, so I saved it for the next year instead. Unfortunately by the next year, the sea longing had become bad enough that I feared he would find the sled more frustrating than fun, and I had no desire to point out to him how much ground he had lost in that one year. Of course after that, things got progressively worse, so that such a gift would have been cruel rather than enjoyable. Still I could not bring myself to get rid of it or give it away to someone else, so I hid it away in a box of brewing supplies in the brewing shed, which is a place my lad has never really bothered to visit after his first try with brewing ale. Galathil and I do all the brewing here now. I wonder if the sled is still where I left it…

 

I find myself making my way out to the shed, and sure enough the little sled is just where I left it. I run a hand over it, admiring the smooth as silk wood and the shiny finish. The top is carved and painted in green with a leaf motif, which is of course meant to be a play on my lad’s name, and the leather straps are decorated with bright brass buckles so that they can be adjusted to fit tightly over any boot. It is a beautiful piece of workmanship, if I say so myself and I feel a pang of regret that I never got to give it to my lad when he could still make use of it. But then what about next year?

For a moment I allow myself to imagine how things will be then when we have reached the far west and my elfling has returned to full health. I find it is not too hard to picture him as he was before; slender and muscular rather than skinny, graceful and lithe with a glowing complexion and shining hair, quick to smile or laugh, eyes bright with joy or twinkling with mischief. I realize now that I barely knew him before he was afflicted, though the sea longing hardly bothered him at first, but now I will get to see him fully recovered without even the slightest hint of illness. When I close my eyes I can imagine him racing down the hills of Tol Eressëa on the new sled, golden hair flying. Perhaps he might even be joined by other young elves, for there are bound to be lads his own age there who he might have fun with and even get into mischief with as boys are meant to do. The image is so powerful, that for the first time in months I feel extremely hopeful for the future, something I very much wish to share with my heart son.

I wonder if this is the year when I should finally gift him with the sled. He will not be able to use it now, of course, but what could I give him that would be better? There is really nothing left for him in Middle Earth now other than suffering and pain, so why not give a gift of hope for the future? Perhaps a gift that will fix his mind’s eye on next year will be the best thing for him and help him look forward to our journey rather than to dread it. 

Making up my mind, I bring the sled up to the house where I find some bright red fabric and the biggest, most cheerful gold bow to tie on top, before placing it with the rest of the packages to be opened on Yule morning. All there is to do now is hope for the best. 

When I return to Legolas’ chamber it is to find him making Yule plans with Saelind, and looking a bit better than he has in a few days. He seems genuinely happy to tell me of their plans for the days ahead, and very determined to see the Yule log brought in tomorrow morning.

And so it happens that he does make it downstairs for the lighting of the Yule log, and even manages to make a very short speech and hand over to me the remnant of last year’s log to light and toss on the kindling that will start the log for this year as per the usual custom. Normally he would light it himself, but there is no way I am going to let him attempt to handle a flame, but he seems happy enough to allow me to do it in his place. 

The twelve days of Yule go as well as can be expected. Of course there is no miraculous improvement in health for my elfling, but we did not expect that. At least he seems to enjoy the revels that are going on around him, even joining in the singing from time to time and tasting the smallest bits of the traditional Yule treats. 

On Midwinter’s eve, I help him to dress in festive clothing for the public feast, even placing the inherited mithril belt around his waist that I gave him years ago. It was made for a dwarf, so as thin as he is it goes around him twice and half again, but it sparkles in the firelight and adds a festive touch to his ensemble. We go down together, determined to enjoy the evening and not be gloomy about it being our final Yule in Middle Earth. Legolas does very well, and makes it through a solid half of the event before giving in and retiring for the evening. Of course I follow him, but rather than focusing on what we are missing, we discuss the celebration that will take place tomorrow morning.

Yule’s eve is meant for grand celebrations, but Yule morning is reserved to be spent with close family and friends. For us this means, the two of us, plus Captain Saelind, Captain Galathil and Master Handir, all of whom, never married and who traveled to Ithilien alone without family. I have asked them to join us this year, because the four of us alone know the full extent of the effects of the sea longing, so there is no need for Legolas to struggle to put on an act. We take turns opening packages and exclaiming over the contents. I receive a beautiful ruby and gold cloak pin from my lad, though I recognize the work as Master Lathron’s.

“It is lovely, lamb.” I tell him, turning it over and over in the light.

“I did not make it,” he must feel compelled to admit, though really there is no need. I know well enough that he can no longer work with the fine tools it would take to make such a thing. “but I believe the rubies once belonged to my Daernaneth on my mother’s side.”

“Well ye can be sure, I will treasure it,” I promise, giving his hand a squeeze and then bringing it to my lips. “Here lamb, open mine now.”

I rise from my chair to lay the package in front of him where he sits at my feet. It is bulky and oddly shaped, and I smile at his puzzled look, but also hold my breath as he opens it. I hope he will see it as a hopeful sign for the future and not as a cruel mockery of what he can no longer do. I actually get neither reaction. Instead he removes the cloth and looks more bewildered than ever.

“It is beautifully carved, and painted, Elvellon…but what is it?”

Everyone laughs at that, and I laugh as well because of course he won’t know what it is. No one has seen such a thing before.

“Well to be honest I don’t rightly know what it’s called, but I will show you how it works. Here stand up.”

I help him up and show him how to stand on the board and strap his feet to it with the adjustable straps. 

“If ye start at the top of a hill, ye can guide it by leaning backwards or forwards. I found it easier to use when I tested it if ye bend your knees a bit like so…”

I place both arms around him to adjust him to the right position and then lean him back and forth, showing him how it rocks a bit from side to side to steer the front end. 

“It…it is for next year of course…”

Again I am holding my breath waiting for his reaction, but then sigh in relief when he actually laughs our loud. It is an honest delighted giggle too, rather than a dutiful chuckle, and something I haven’t heard in a very long time.

“I can hardly wait,” he tells me. “But we must come up with a name for it.”

Names like ‘foot sleigh’, ‘snow surfer’ and ‘standing sled’ are offered up, but Legolas finally lands on ‘sliding board’ as the official name.

“Very good,” I agree. “it is simple and descriptive. Now shall we put the sliding board away and bring out the spiced cider?”

He wishes to keep the board with him though as we sip at the cider and settle in to watch the fire consume the last of the Yule log, taking turns reminiscing about Yules past and singing songs to welcome the returning light. We are not long at it when I feel an arm tighten around my lower leg, and a few minutes later a head resting against my knee. Saelind catches my eye and gestures toward my lad, who when I look down, I see is sleeping soundly with his free arm slung over the sliding board in his lap, holding it to his chest. I smile at this as we continue with our singing, but after a while I reach down to awaken him and encourage him to come up off the cooling floor to join me in my chair, for the fire is nearly out. He rouses just enough to climb in next to me and fall asleep again, this time with his head tucked under my chin and one ear against my chest, where he can hear my soft humming I suppose.

Eventually we all fall silent and together watch as the last of the Yule log turns to ash. Just before it is consumed completely, Galathil stands up to douse it, saving the last bit of it to light next year’s Yule log. 

For a long moment no one is sure what to do. Always before it has been put on the mantle to dry out for the next year, but now there is no need for that. It is very unlikely that any of us will be here next year, for Legolas and I will be in the Far West, and the others here will most likely return to Eryn Lasgalen with the rest of their kin. Only a few elves still reside in Middle Earth and the ones that do have been consistently moving to the great woods. It only makes sense that the three of them will go home to their king and leave this place for their human neighbors to inhabit, as was meant to be from the beginning. These elves have always known they were temporary residents here, sent to restore the land to its former glory and then pass it on to the humans who truly belong to this land. It is both a sad and happy thought at the same time. We shall miss one another, but on the other hand a great commission has been successfully accomplished. Aragorn is gone, but this land that he hoped would be restored, will be here for his descendants to enjoy forever. 

Still that does not answer our dilemma over the Yule log remnant. But then I have an idea.

“Let us split it,” I say. “It will be a reminder next year of all that we have come through as we celebrate Yule next year wherever that may be. If that is fine with all of you, that is.”

Of course, everyone agrees that that is just as it should be.


	6. Epilogue from Legolas' pov

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just now realized that I never posted the last chapter of this when I posted it last year! Sorry for the super late update!

Epilogue

“It is time to come in now Lamb.” 

I can hear Gimli very well of course, but I feign deafness and continue to bound up the hill, determined to have one more go on my sliding board. It really is quite exhilarating much better than sledging and the rounded hills that rise up on the south side of New Imladris are perfect. I have found over the last day or so that the best run is to have some slight rises and dips so that the board occasionally lifts off the snow and flies through the air. I do not think Gimli had thought about that possibility he certainly looked a little pale the first time he watched me come down the hill and lift off into the air.

A year is such a short time in the life of an elf, but this one seems to have been full to overflowing. Last Yule I was all but consumed by the call of the sea. I recall very little of the celebrations just a few almost misty memories, of sitting by the fire watching the Yule Log burn down and of holding the sliding board close. It was like a talisman, something to cling to, for it told me far better than words ever could that Gimli firmly believed that by the time the next Yule came around I would be fit enough to make use of it.

I held onto that belief through the months that followed, and of course Gimli has been proved correct. Not that everything has been easy. By the time we arrived in the West I was so far gone that I had to be helped ashore, and making the transition from Middle Earth to Tol Eressëa has had its difficulties too. 

Lord Elrond and Lady Celebrian have been everything that is kind, and offered us a home and support while we found our feet. Now we have a home of our own in the making, and next year we will celebrate Yule in Car Annûn. For now we are happy to share the festivities with Elrond and his household. 

“Lamb, ye know what Lord Elrond said about not getting too cold!” Gimli calls up to me, “Tis time we went in.”

Being in the care of one of the greatest healers that Middle Earth ever knew does have its drawbacks, and Gimli is far too inclined to listen to Elrond’s strictures on my health and to want to follow all his instructions for my present comfort. However, I have little cause to complain in reality, and I am aware that without Lord Elrond’s skills my recovery would have taken a great deal longer than it has.

I no longer fear to look in a mirror as I was used to doing before we sailed, for the face I saw then was thin, and white, the eyes glazed over and the hair dry and dull. This morning when I dressed for a day out in the snow, I saw someone transformed; a healthy glow on my cheeks, eyes bright and my hair back to its usual luster. I also saw the face of my dwarf smiling as he plaited my back braid for me. 

Gimli has changed too. I could not see last year how much my illness had affected him. He always presented this strong, resilient persona; so sure so certain that we would defeat the sea longing and find peace in the furthermost West, but I realize now how much pressure he was under, how much my condition impacted on him. Now the careworn expression has given way to great smiles and sometimes, like now, to exasperation, but I know it is happy exasperation. He is delighted that I am well enough to find mischief or to defy his wishes a little. Not too much though I decide as he growls,

“Dinna make me come up there!”

I laugh for we both know that he would sink up to his knees in the soft snow should he attempt it. Gimli can do many things but he cannot walk on top of the snow. Still, it will not do to annoy him too much for tonight we are to share our own private Yule celebration. Tomorrow we will join in with the household and enjoy all of the traditional trappings of Yule but tonight we will remember our friends and family who have been left behind and give thanks for our present happiness. So, I drop the board onto the snow and slip my feet into the straps, adjusting them so that they will hold firmly enough but offer me some flexibility in movement so that I can more easily steer the board down the slope.

I lean forward and the board begins its descent. The cold air is exhilarating, the rush of wind through my hair and across my face, and the flashes of sunlight making the snow sparkle and glisten as I propel myself down the slope. I cannot help but to let out an exuberant whoop as the board goes airborne and then lands so that I have to bend my knees and flail my arms to keep upright. Lord Elrond has had a pavilion set up at the bottom of the slope. In it are some chairs and two braziers to keep my dwarf warm while he watches me ‘play’. Towards the bottom of the slope the gradient becomes more marked, and I speed up. At the last moment I avoid colliding with the pavilion as I swing sideways and come to a halt spraying Gimli with snow. He splutters and mutters that he wishes he had never made the bedamned thing but I know he is not serious. He is as delighted as I am that not only does the board work, but that I am well enough to enjoy it. 

“That is the last run today!” he tells me taking my arm to ensure I do not try to escape. In truth, I am happy to go inside and warm up a little. I have not as yet built up the full resistance to cold or hunger that is natural for an elf although Lord Elrond assures me that I will recover it in time, if I do as I am bid by those who know better than I what I am presently capable of doing. 

“I have arranged for us to have dinner in our rooms tonight” Gimli tells me as he steers me back to the house, “I thought ye would prefer it.”

“Thank you Elvellon. I will look forward to it.”

“Aye, but mind me ye will not be staying up all night to see if Father Rhiw comes a calling.”

I sniff, but do not argue. In truth I am tired and a quiet night with Gimli at my side will suit me very well. 

By the time, I have had a hot bath and changed into dry clothing, our meal has been sent up plus a tray that has a cover over the top so that I cannot see what it contains. There is another covered object by the hearth but since I know we are not exchanging gifts until tomorrow night I decide not to try and find out what is beneath the cloths and turn my attention to my dinner. 

Once that has been disposed of and I have earned Gimli’s approval by having second helpings of the venison pie I throw a cushion down by my dwarf’s chair intending to settle down and watch the fire but Gimli says that there is something we must do first. He clears out the hot ashes in the fireplace, which he had allowed to burn right down, then from under the cloth he pulls a log. It is not a full sized Yule log of course but it is a good size and it has been decorated with ivy and holly, apples and herbs just as it should be.

“Yule willn’a be Yule without a log Lamb,” he tells me, when I stare up at him in delighted surprise. His eyes dancing he adds, “and of course, something proper to light it with.” 

He pulls out a small dry piece of wood and I blink as I realize it must be the remains of the last Yule log we shared with our folk in Ithilien en-Edhil.

“Is that?”

I point at it unable to complete my question.

“Aye that it is. Captain Galathil kept it safe and handed half of it to me, so that we could light our new life with a brand from the old. He and Saelind wanted me to tell ye that they never doubted ye would recover and be well. Aye, and I doubt not they are lighting their log and thinking of us tonight with the other piece.”

“Oh Gimli,” my hands shake as together we light the brand and hold it to the log and watch it catch fire. 

“Dinna look back laddie. Let us remember our friends wherever they are and know we will be reunited with them some day and then look to the future. It is what they would wish us to do and we do not want their sacrifice to be wasted do we?”

“You are the one who has made the greatest sacrifice,” I tell him, throwing myself into his arms.

“Nay, it is by my choice I am here,” he pats my shoulder, “and I would not have it any other way. And what is more I am happy my Yule wish of last year has finally come to fruition, even if it means ye are shortening my life with your antics on that board! Maybe it would be a good idea to use that as the Yule Log instead of this one here.” 

“You would not!”

He seems to consider this then says, “No I suppose I wouldn’t, but I might use it for target practice if ye do not take more care!”

He wags a finger at me. I laugh and kiss the tip of it, and he retaliates by bringing his hand down on my thigh.

“Ye are a rascal.”

“And you are much appreciated. Truly I know what I owe to you Elvellon and I know I can never repay you. I am so grateful.”

He harrumphs and brushes away what I am sure are tears. 

“That is quite enough of that foolishness! Come now fetch me that tray and I will make us some Lambswool. We will toast the turning of the year and the return of the light and the return of my Lamb, thank Mahal” he adds softly.

As we wait for the cider to warm up I watch the fire. This year there are no waves or ships but only light and laughter and a bright future to look for in the flames. I look up at Gimli who is also watching the fire and know that I am home.


End file.
